Limericks of three varieties: Clean, Suggestive, and Filthy! The ones in red
are R- to X-rated. Those with numeric-only labels are my own, those labeled "OP" are from Other Posters, and the ones with "PD" labels are in the Public Domain. You may email me at limericist@cox.net.

Friday, January 9, 2015

PD167-178. The Farter from Sparta

Here's my favorite multi-stanza limerick. That the author broke with anæpestic tri-meter in verses 7-8 doesn't even bother me any more.There was a young fellow from Sparta,A really magnificent farter,On the strength of one beanHe'd fart God Save The Queen,And Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

He could vary, with proper persuasion,His fart to suit any occasion.He could fart like a flute,Like a lark, like a lute,This highly fartistic Caucasian.

This sparkling young farter from Sparta,His fart for no money would barter.He could roar from his rearAny scene from Shakespeare,Or Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado.

He'd fart a gavotte for a starter,And fizzle a fine serenata.He could play on his anusThe Coriolanus:Oof, boom, er-tum, tootle, yum tah-dah!

He was great in the Christmas Cantata,He could double-stop fart the Toccata,He'd boom from his assBach's B-Minor Mass,And in counterpoint, La Traviata.

Spurred on by a very high wagerWith an envious German named Bager,He'd proceeded to fartThe complete oboe partOf a Haydn Octet in B-Major.

His repertoire ranged from classics to jazz,He achieved new effects with bubbles of gas.With a good dose of saltsHe could whistle a waltzOr swing it in razzamatazz.

His basso profundo with timbre so rareHe rendered quite often, with power to spare.But his great work of art,His fortissimo fart,He saved for the March Militaire.

One day he was dared to performThe William Tell Overture Storm,But naught could disheartenOur spirited Spartan,For his fart was in wonderful form.

It went off in capital style,And he farted it through with a smile,Then, feeling quite jolly,He tried the finale,Blowing double-stopped farts all the while.

The selection was tough, I admit,But it did not dismay him one bit,Then, with ass thrown aloftHe suddenly coughed...And collapsed in a shower of shit.

His bunghole was blown back to Sparta,Where they buried the rest of our farter,With a gravestone of turdsInscribed with the words:"To the Fine Art of Farting, a Martyr."